Tales of the Fox
by skittlefizzzx
Summary: Stuck somewhere between fox and human, Ahri's dream has always been somewhat misunderstood...pranks, unintentional murder, and soul sucking aside, all she really wants is just to open her own bathhouse. Really!
1. Foxes and Monkeys and Mayhem, Oh My!

Hi everyone! Welcome to my first League fanfiction, which will mainly be about Ahri's adventures outside of the Fields of Justice (even though this first chapter is probably misleading, since it seems to primarily concern Wukong, haha). Ideally I'd like to frame these in a mini-episode format, with each piece being able to stand alone while contributing towards a larger plotline, but we'll have to see where my writing takes me, hehehe.

At any rate, I have a love-hate affair/addiction with LoL, and Ahri is my favorite champion, so I figured if I might as well start writing a fanfiction, it might as well be about her! I hope you enjoy it!

**EDIT 03-28-14:** Cover art from the wonderful Claparo-Sans! I love the old-school water color, traditional style this piece exudes, almost like it's a fairytale. It feels so ethereal and awesome and yay. Check them out on Deviantart for more awesome arts! (Unfortunately, it wasn't made specifically for this piece, and probably doesn't make as much sense to the story. But it's pretty! xD Anyway, if YOU have awesome art skills and would like to draw Ahri being derpy in front of her bathhouse, or something...I'd love you forever.)

**EDIT 08/28/15:** I'm back! Sorry sorry sorry for the extended hiatus! Anyway, if you are a newcomer to this story, then welcome! Please lean back, relax, read, enjoy, and offer constructive criticism if you're really in love! ;) And if you have lurked around this story before, then welcome back! Perhaps you'll notice that I'm in the process of doing some rewriting/heavy editing along with releasing new content! Just hoping to clean it up a bit…let me know what you think!

* * *

_A thought…_

_a dazzle of blue flame…_

_a high-pitched, girlish giggle._

_(Teeheeheeheeheee...)_

The Monkey King felt undeserving of his majestic title as he exited the field in a sullen-faced mood. In place of his typical upright swagger, the monkey padded quietly through the lobby on all fours with his head bowed and his gaze firmly fixed onto the floor, determined to avoid conversation at all costs. Even his tail, which normally coiled and flicked about with a mind of its own, and would playfully tap the shoulder of a Summoner here, or a Champion there, now limply hung over one shoulder. Today he wanted to be as small as possible, for he needed some alone-time to indulge in a session of much-needed self-pitying. What a misfortune, losing seven—**seven!**—consecutive games that he had been heckled into playing, and during those nonsensical hours of night that were much better spent in bed. That last game in particular ended up being a prolonged hour and a half of drawn-out-torture, for not only was the defeat humiliating, but it was now half past ten and the breakfast buffet was officially closed. Hunger made his lip curl upwards into a feral scowl as he paused before a chatty cluster of Summoners loitering near the entrance to the Champion's dormitories, no doubt hoping to draft their favorites for upcoming matches, but upon seeing the hostile Monkey King, they immediately scattered.

Nope, he really wasn't in a good mood. But at least now there was nothing standing between him and some privacy, for Summoners were barred past this point, and his rooms were mere a hop and a skip up to the second landing. Oh, how he just wanted to order room service and be alone—

"OPPA!"

_Oh no._

An enthusiastic shriek of disproportionate volume snuffed the conversational hum in the lobby into shocked silence as heads swiveled towards the origin of the noise. As for the monkey, he groaned and closed his eyes, for the voice was unmistakable…and couldn't have been more ill-timed. Begging the Wise One for a shred of patience, he stood on his hind legs and turned to greet the newcomer, but was instead assaulted with a whirling blur of fluff that hurled itself into his chest with enough force to lift him off his feet and launch them both backwards in a nonsensical entanglement of limbs and other miscellaneous appendages. The doors slid shut behind them, but not before every Summoner present was given an entertaining eyeful of the bewildered monkey, pinned to the floor.

As for Wukong, he made a single, halfhearted attempt to disentangle himself from as many of his abuser's tails as he had the energy for, but finally just let it be and curled himself into a ball on the floor, smothered in fox fur and sore all over, feeling as though he couldn't sink any lower. Monkey King, they called him? Ha! He felt majestic _indeed_.

"Finally! I've been looking for you," Ahri giggled, hopping to her feet and brushing long, spidery fingers down the crumpled front of her kimono. Once straightened, she ran a mischievous eye over the many bumps and bruises that ravaged her friend's battered form. "I saw your last match," she added with a cheeky grin, "and it looked bruuutal!"

The monkey grumbled something incoherent, and buried his face under his tail. "Go away Ahri."

"What, you're just going to lie on the floor like that?"

"Yes."

"Oh stop being so grumpy!" the fox girl whined in her playful way, which for the moment struck a discordant note with the monkey, for Wukong was not in the mood to play. He was hungry, he was sore, he was vaguely aware that Ahri was bending over him, probably do some additional sort of mischief to the top of his head…but he didn't care because he just wanted to go to bed, and…there was a sudden, overwhelming aroma of mint and warm dough that made his nose quiver, and could not be overlooked. Raising his head, it took him a moment to register the strange blob that was dangling from Ahri's hands, but upon recognition, immediately made him faint with hunger. "Is…that…?"

It was the largest, most glorious fig cake he had ever seen. In truth, it was probably like all of the others, but Wukong was so distraught and delirious with hunger by that point that even a little circle of cake dangling tantalizingly from Ahri's fingers seemed a veritable Mecca of food. A trembling paw reached up to take the cake, but with a merciless giggle, the fox girl took a step back. "You have to promise to stop being so dour," she stipulated with a pout.

"Okay, sure, whatever, anything." Wukong's eyes were large, glassy, and fixated on the cake.

Ahri, ever the prankster, deliberated for one more excruciating moment as to whether or not she should give in, but finally conceded and handed him the treat. In seconds he was sitting cross-legged, meticulously picking the last of the crumbs from his furry snout. "Better now?"

"Yes and no," Wukong replied, "you can't imagine how sore I am!"

"After only seven games?" Ahri crinkled her nose and looked up at him; while he devoured the cake she had entertained herself by juggling a ball of blue fox-fire between her many tails, waiting for the precise second the monkey finished his meal. Now, with a wave of her hand, the ball of fire vanished, and she stood up to stretch her legs. "Gosh you're getting old!"

"Actually, I was doing great until some vicious ninety-pound fox ruthlessly attacked me out of nowhere."

Ahri's retaliating "Hey!" was lost in bubbles of laughter, and she half-tugged, half-dragged the Monkey King back to his feet. "Oh come on _ajjushi_, let's get you to a Healing Center!" She skipped down the hallway a few steps, tails rippling in a grand train behind her; when they were fully spread out she seemed to take up the entire width of the hall.

Upright, Wukong felt exhaustion cling to his bones, which masked a duller, more throbbing sort of pain. His legs alone felt like two slabs of Jell-O with hundreds of needles wiggling inside. "Ahri wait," he groaned, stretching out a hand as he labored after the fox girl. "Seriously, I think they really did a number on me."

Ahri turned, and her mischievous look softened at the sight of her battered friend. One hand grasped his own, and a tail (or three) coiled around his shoulders to half support, half propel the monkey forward. Still, it was a jolting ride, for she liked to skip when she walked, and she was impatient to see Wukong recovered quickly. For his own sake, of course, but she was also quivering with barely suppressed excitement, right down to her tail tips.

Secrets had a way of doing that.


	2. Dreams and Other Things

Ahri had waited, quite patiently she thought, until her friend was suitably patched up and dispatched from the medical hall before bombarding him with her unconcealed excitement. Wukong and the Kinkou begged to differ, for the former was bonked in the head a number of times by a rogue tail, and Akali eventually had to bustle the hyperactive fox girl out of the facility altogether, after an unfortunate series of boredom + dancing urges + careless twirling in the cramped operating room with arms and tails fanned out, all but destroyed the many vials of medicines sitting on their shelves. It did, however, provoke an impossible display of emotion from the normally stoic Shen, who was putting on his gloves when the event occurred. His horrorstruck face was an amusing one that Wukong hoped he wouldn't forget anytime soon. But now, sitting behind the makeshift counter of Olaf's new pub, _Brolaf's_, and halfway through a pint of Graggy Ice, the monkey couldn't believe his ears.

"You're…what!?"

Ahri nodded, preening, and untied the velveteen bag from the sash at her waist. It fell with a surprising thud onto the bar counter, for it was but a small bag, but the momentum caused the drawstrings to loosen slightly. Inside, Wukong caught the glimmer of a thousand colors reflecting the afternoon light and knew precisely what the contents were, and, judging by the straining, bulging lumps jutting out the sides, there were many of them. His jaw dropped.

"There must be a fortune in there!" Wukong gasped, choking on his drink.

"Shhhh!" Ahri hissed back, much too loudly to be subtle. But she grinned. "I'm going to have Taric evaluate them after lunch just to be sure, but I estimate my diamonds will get me at least 25,000 gold pieces, which is just enough for that vacant lot right outside the Institute."

"_That _place?! Why on Runeterra would you waste a fortune on that dump? You could buy half of Bilgewater with that kind of money!" Wukong shook his head, marveling at his friend's lack of common sense. Usually it was endearing, even tolerable for the most part, but letting his friend get cheated out of her lifelong inheritance to buy 4,000 square feet of rubbish was something he, on his Ionian honor, could not simply let slide. "Really, Ahri…shouldn't you think this through a little more?"

"No!" Ahri's lips puckered into a stubborn pout. "I've already thought about it. It's the last vacant space within miles of the Institute, and it's the perfect place!"

"Yeah, but remember what happened to the arcade?" Wukong still felt bad for the lot's previous tenants. The Rainbow Arcade was a quaint little hangout packed with all sorts of games for the Summoners to enjoy in their spare time, and a brilliant idea…except for one tiny oversight. Unfortunately, the game-loving Summoners had little time for Pac-Man and air hockey when they could play LoL all day, and the mistake had been costly for the co-owners, Sona and Hecarim. Rumor was that the pair had recently been forced to declare bankruptcy, and judging by their permanently-etched downcast faces, it seemed that for once, rumor spoke true.

Ahri slid a glance down the bar, where Sona and Hecarim now sat, rather isolated from their peers and mindlessly downing cups of Graggy Lite—the cheapest drink at Brolaf's—as if they were shots, staring up at the line of screens hanging from the ceiling with bloodshot eyes. The televisions were always blaring at full volume, which got a little chaotic when they were displaying different matches and the pub was at full capacity, but for now the majority of them were tuned to the Rift, and the announcer's voice clearly boomed over the speakers as yet again, Teemo had been slain.

"Well," she murmured in a low undertone, once the cheers and boos had dwindled down some, "as cute as their idea was, mine is clever. And faultless."

Wukong raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

She grinned at him, baring her pointy fox teeth. "Because they were trying to cater to the Summoners, and _I'm_ going to direct mine at Champions! How clever is that!"

"So basically…you're going to follow everyone else's business model." Wukong could think of at least six off the top of his head. Brolaf's, for one, Mundo's accounting firm, the Kinkou's Justice Hospital, Gragas' brewery…it was endless. In fact, he admired Sona and Hecarim for trying to _break_ the cycle.

Eagerly the fox girl shook her head. "Not a business, a _bathhouse_," she corrected. "For profit, of course! It's always been my lifelong dream!"

"I thought becoming human was your lifelong dream," the monkey retorted drily, draining the last of his beer and gesturing to the minion behind the bar for a second glass.

"No, silly, why do you think I wanted to be human in the first place? To achieve _this_ dream!" she exclaimed with an exasperated sigh, as though it was supposed to be the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh. My bad."

Ahri laughed at him. "It's okay, I understand that not everyone can be as clever as a fox," she taunted, and slid off her stool. "Anyway, watch my bag, will ya? I need to primp—if I can charm Taric, then I'm sure he'll give me an even better deal!"

"Yeah, good luck with _that_…" Wukong mused, more to himself, for by that point Ahri had already flounced off, her tails bobbing behind her. Accepting his drink, he glanced up at the TVs again, but they had already switched to a static "Victory" screen…it looked as though the match was over.

A moment later a fresh group of Champions came bounding in, half of them excited and giddy, the other half dragging their feet to the closest seats they could find. Out of all of them, Wukong was most pleased to see the graceful, lounging stride of his master, and his unblemished uniform. It was a sure sign of victory as the serenely smiling swordsman approached the monkey, and gestured to Ahri's empty seat.

"May I?"

Wukong nodded and flagged the minion for another drink, although the older man stopped him with a flourish of his hand. "Nothing for me today."

"That's unlike you, Master," replied his eager pupil, raising an eyebrow. Yi's desperate love for sake was well known throughout the League.

Yi smiled. "Unfortunately, I am not staying long. Irelia and I will soon be departing for Ionia; I just came to inquire about your matches today. Had the scheduling not coincided with my morning meditation, I would have come to watch in person."

Judging by his student's sudden frown, Yi realized the trepidation he had felt when his student had entered the field was justified, and he shook his head. "I see," he murmured, unable to hide the disappointment in his tone.

Affronted, Wukong burst out with the frustration that welled inside him all morning. "But I did everything you instructed! It was more the team comp! I had to tank, so no one ever targeted the enemy carry, and what was I supposed to do? I dominated my lane, but even I'm no match for Tristana when she's fed out of her—"

"Failure must be recognized, before it can be defeated," Yi replied, resting a gloved hand on his pupil's furry head. "I see you still have much to learn, my brash young grasshopper."

"I'm a monkey," Wukong grumbled back, and took another deep swig.

"I hope someday that you will understand the true nature of Wuju," the master added, glancing up at the screens, which were showcasing the rosters for the next match. "Know that I have always had full faith in your potential, and do still."

Wukong sighed. "Yes master," he muttered, through gritted teeth.

"Ah!" Yi's attention was finally diverted, to the monkey's relief. He hated to be chastised, especially as he was still raw with embarrassment from the debacles of those seven games.

"What is it?" He followed the swordsman's gaze upwards to the televisions.

Yi smiled, and cocked his head to one side. The lenses on his mask rotated in and out of focus as he scanned the small print beside the champions, for even though he had probably read them a hundred times, he was always interested in reading their biographies. "This will be quite a match…have you seen Kennen lately? Such dedication to the gym every night for the past two months, not to mention his perseverance in meditating with me in the mornings…I admire his discipline. I believe it will show in this match as well."

_That's not the only thing that's showing_, Wukong thought, noticing the yordle Kinkou's bared midriff, which exposed a furry set of chiseled abs under his now too-tight purple top. The sight was almost comical, but at that moment the camera zoomed in for a close up of the champion, and his serious, icy blue stare quelled any spark of amusement.

They watched the first half of the match until Irelia showed up ("So sorry, Master, the traffic was awful today!") and Kennen was already dominating his lane with seven kills. But almost immediately Irelia began to complain about the noise level, for it was affecting her concentration ("How am I supposed to control my blades over this ruckus!") and as if to prove her point, one of her swords wavered, then swooped dangerously close over Wukong's head; it was fortunate that at that moment the monkey impulsively leaned over the side of his chair, for he had just dropped a peanut. Nevertheless, sensing the sword woman's simmering discontentment, Yi deemed it wisest to bid his student good day. "Farewell, until our next encounter. Restrain your tiger spirit and you will find the inner peace you are seeking," he murmured, resting a gentle hand on the monkey's head for a brief moment before departing.

"I'm. A. Monkey," Wukong whispered back as they left, feeling stubborn and a little tipsy as he knocked back his second drink of the day. All he wanted was to forget that the morning had ever happened.


	3. The Diamond Debacle

Ahri slid the last of her ornate hairpins back into her braided bun. _All done_, she cheered inwardly, tilting her head from side to side in the mirror to examine her handiwork. She was a little vain, and although her hair had been re-braided to _her_ standards of perfection, she still lingered in front of the mirror, to admire the rest of her reflection. It was hard to imagine that not too long ago she was just another starving, four-legged Arctic fox, struggling through the barren wilderness in the wake of the Rune Wars and desperate for an untainted morsel of food. Just her luck then, when she found magic instead.

Even in her primal state, she knew she had been destined for something more. And for someone as materialistic, as vain as she…who loathed filth and grime even more than the pathetic attempts of that creep Draven whenever he attempted to hit on her (which was unfortunately often), what was more fitting then creating the bathhouse of her dreams?

It had haunted her often at night, a nine-tiered pagoda and a wonder in its own right, even next to the timeless Grecian temple that was the Institute of War. Through the royally painted archways and the zen garden she could see clean bamboo floors, ornate architecture, and soft-lit, round paper lanterns beckoning all visitors to a safe haven. She had seen elements of this when she was just considered vermin, and was scrounging around the streets with the sewer rats. She was lulled by the orbs of light, the intoxicating smell of fresh-roasted meat...and they had thrown her out then, and cursed her for being a vile pest.

Not this time, she vowed. She would make her dream come true. The bathhouse was just within her grasp, and she was ready to embrace her destiny.

Ahri straightened her shoulders back and flashing a glinting, reassuring smile at her reflection, then spun on her heel and skipped out of the ladies room. Even in the half hour that she had dallied, the pub had grown exponentially more crowded; Brolaf's was always the most packed between lunch and cocktail hour.

"Ahri, over here!"

"Come sit with us, princess!"

"Give us a smile there, would ya babe?"

Ahri flashed a wink in response as she passed the Demacian table, named such as it was often claimed by Xin Zhou and Garen, although even the prince himself was making an appearance that day. They flashed a triad of charming smiles as they waved her over and scooted so that she could slide into the booth next to Jarvan, which was a welcome invitation, for she had seen that Wukong deep in conversation with his master, and had no wish to bother them. Besides, the cool, calm collectedness of Master Yi unsettled her, for it was quite unlike her own impulsive, admittedly brash personality, and they had struggled in the past to find common ground.

"How does this studly trio today?" she teased, wiggling around in her seat until her tails adjusted to the cramped corner.

From across the table, Garen laughed, and raised his glass. "Levels better with our little lady!" he roared, while Jarvan threw an arm around her shoulder and drew her in close.

"I declare this fox princess an honorary Demacian!" the prince announced, his words a little slurred, but to the applause of the silent Xin nonetheless, who watched the pair with admiring eyes.

She laughed, and acknowledged the title with a flourishing wave of her hand. "And how is kingdom running, milord?" she inquired. "Rather dreary, I would imagine!"

"Dreary with his old dad, not so dull with lady Dragon, who seems to have well deserved her name in bed, eh Jarv? Old goat has no time to cavort with his friends!"

"Garen, please!" Xin shook his head, and threw Ahri an apologetic look that clearly meant, _ignore him. He's already had five shots._

But Ahri merely giggled again at the boys' coarse talk. "So a dragon is more to your liking then, prince? Not so a fox?" She stuck out her tongue, and her tails coiled about her spare frame, as though to cloak her completely in fur.

Jarven bowed his head in acquiescence, unabashed at the public acknowledgment of his feelings. All that mattered was that his father would approve, if not now, then sometime in the near future. But watching Ahri engage in spirited conversation with that drunken oaf Garen, another random thought drifted across his mind. _She plays the coquette well_, which was bewildering, given her laughable naiveté. Such fresh innocence was what endeared her to the Demacian team.

"Well boys, I think I ought to get back to my friend over there." She pointed towards a desolate looking Wukong, hunched over a fresh drink, and surrounded by a cluster of empty-tankards. "I should tell Olaf to cut him off, for his own good!"

And amidst Garen's boisterous protests ("Aw, don't leave us darlin'!") and Xin Zhou's bashful looks that betrayed just how much he enjoyed the fox girl's company, Ahri disentangled herself from the prince's heavy arm and gracefully slid out of the booth. "Until next time, dearies!" she added, blowing kisses through her thin fingers as she traipsed back towards her doleful monkey friend.

But suddenly the grins disappeared from their faces, and Ahri's own laugh got stuck in her throat as she felt an arm coil around her waist and felt the repulsive tickle of facial hair and fleshy lips lingering against her ear.

"Hey baby, I've been lonely for ya..." The voice was cocky, tenor-like, and utterly repugnant. Even worse, the man pulled her closer, until they were touching from chest to toe.

Ahri shuddered. "Get _off_ me, Draven!" She pushed out of his embrace and glowered at the younger Noxian brother with distaste. The way he grinned at her, not to mention the bizarrely cropped hair cut and mustache like a pair of rat tails…it was vile. It also didn't help that he was slavering after her, wherever she went, and the thought of those lecherous eyes made her tails flare upwards in angry defiance.

"Don't be like that baby, I got you a drink, so you have to sit with me. Unless you'd rather take a bottle back up to my room…"

"DRAVEN!" The booming voice of the Noxian general rose in an angry bellow over the speakers as Darius strode forward. "That's enough."

It was less his respect for her than it was for his brother's well-being that made him intervene, Ahri knew. Everyone but Draven seemed aware of the threatening wisps of blue smoke that had begun to emanate around her, and the small, growing orb of energy she was nursing in her right hand. Touch me again, her body dared him, and she would rush his spirit into oblivion. But the burly older brother was now resting a hand the size of a frying pan on his sibling's thin shoulder, nearly making Draven's knees buckle under the pressure. "My brother is sorry for his conduct," he growled, although the hostility in his eyes made the apology fall rather flat. She noticed his eyes dart over to the Demacian table, where the trio of men had already half-risen from their seats, weapons in hand, then saw his grip tighten, which made his brother yelp a little in pain.

Ahri put on her most dazzling smile. "Thank you, Darius, no harm done," she giggled, turning her back on all of them and making her way back to the bar. Stupid, stupid rivalries. Why couldn't everyone just get along? The last thing she needed was a second Noxian/Demacian war, or any sort of brawling within Institute walls, no less! Not if she could help it. Her beloved bathhouse at stake!

"Alright Wu, I'm ready, let's go get some proper food in you," she called out as she approached her companion, who seemed to be drowning under a counter surrounded by empty glasses. "Oh my god, how many of those did you…"

But then her temper flared, and a whoosh of blue flame brought Wukong out of his mug and back to his senses. "Whaa?" he mumbled. "Oh, hey Ahri…whoa—why are you looking at me like that! Get that orb out of my face!"

For Ahri was on fire, and her rage made the green orb of deadly magic in her hands swell. Around her Summoners and Champions alike scrambled to get out of her way, until the two were quite alone at the bar. Her eyes glowed a haunting, sickly hue of silvery green, and when she spoke, her shriek was deadly:

"WHERE—ARE—MY—DIAMONDS!?"


	4. Where Did the Diamonds Go?

Ahri lifted her head from her arms, looking despondent. They had scoured the Institute, looking for hours but now they were back at Brolaf's where she had spent the last forty-five minutes sobbing out her heart and soul.

"I can't believe you lost them!" she had screamed in a fury, unleashing a torrent of tears (thank goodness) instead of the dreaded fox fire that Wukong had feared. Yet despite his efforts, nothing he could say or do would placate her.

"That was my entire legacy!" she moaned, once her temper had cooled...slightly.

"Why, why, why didn't I get insurance?!" Slowly the anger at Wukong shifted more and more to self-pity, and the hyper rational thinking began.

"Pretty…sparkly thingies…" she mumbled incoherently an hour after that, exhausted and inebriated and rolling around an empty beer can across the counter with her fingertips until it fell off and joined the crumpled pile at her feet.

Now she had sunken into dejected, spiteful silence, looking as sour-faced as a child deprived of her candy, and Wukong feared they were looping back from the depression stages into another episode of anger. "I'm so sorry, Ahri," he tried again. "I saw my master, and it was a bad day, and I just wasn't thinking about it…"

She sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve before her shoulders shuddered in one last, frustrated sigh. "It's okay, Wukong. It's not your fault it's gone," she managed to choke out, dabbing at her red-rimmed eyes.

"We'll find them," he assured her, with more confidence than he felt, because obviously whoever took those diamonds would have disappeared long ago, unless they were idiots.

"I know who took it," she suddenly interjected, startling him with her reignited fury. "Ohhh! That slimy little—oh just wait until I get my hands on him…"

"Sorry…who?"

Ahri raised an eyebrow. "It's obvious, isn't it? Twitch! It has to be Twitch. That sneaky, thieving, cursed little sewer rat is going to pay for it!" Drawing a napkin towards her, she took out a pen and began scribbling a slew of words; Wukong caught the words "guillotine, spontaneous combustion," and "accident" and decided he better intervene.

Before he could respond, however, there was a loud, energetic "Hey, bros!" and suddenly the monkey was swept backwards off his stool into a crushing bear hug. "Long time no see!"

"Hi, uh—oh hi Olaf. Look, this probably isn't a good time…"

But Olaf wasn't paying attention. "Bro, your games today were gnarly, man! Makes me wince just thinking about it!"

"Can we **not** talk about that," Wukong replied icily, through gritted teeth.

"Whoa, no judgment here bro! It was a sick wipeout! I hope they add it to tomorrow's highlights!" Olaf threw his head back and laughed, then saw the untouched plate of hot wings that Ahri had pushed away and gasped as if a cardinal sin had been broken. "Brooooo…"

"Not now, Olaf," Ahri snapped, her eyes glued to the napkin.

Olaf chuckled, ruffling a hand through his thick beard. "Whoa, bro, _whoa_." Grinning like an idiot, he pulled up a stool and rested his elbows on the counter, then clasped his hands together in an attempt to look more engaged. "Talk to Brolaf. What's happenin', bro."

"Kill him, I'm gonna kill him! My diamonds, _mine_, my preciousss…" Ahri hissed down at the counter and apparently ignorant of the Viking's presence beside her. Without missing a beat she snatched another napkin and continued scrawling, no doubt continuing the intricate series of plans and plots for Twitch's ultimate doom.

"Yeah, she's gonna be like that for a while. On the bright side she's at least doing something productive other than crying. What have you been up to, Olaf?" Wukong inquired, reaching over Ahri's head to help himself to a buffalo wing.

"Acht, not good, bro." Olaf shook his head, frowning. "Business is a drag, now that Gragas decided he was totes gonna branch into 'fast-food-fine-dining.' Have you seen the stand he set up by the purple nexus? Bro, it's rack-jacked like half my customers!"

Wukong shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He didn't want to admit that he himself sometimes stopped there for the braised pork rib and truffle ramen, which was shockingly delicious. And fast. "Mmmmm…" he mumbled incoherently through a mouthful of chicken, and tried to look sympathetic.

"Fast food and alcohol…yeah it's hard to compete with that," Ahri interjected, oblivious to the offended glare that Olaf was throwing her direction. "Do you think rats hate spiders? I think Elise still owes me a favor…"

"Well," he huffed, abruptly standing up, "I better check on my other customers. Later bros."

After he left, Wukong rounded on her. "That was rather rude, don't you think?"

Ahri glanced up, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"That snide comment you made about his business…it was like you were rubbing it in, or something."

She shrugged. "But it's true. Everyone wants to go to the Barrel Stand," she mused. "In fact, a prawn-and-kimchi taco sounds kind of good right now…"

"Stop! Stop!" Wukong hissed, "do you have to talk about it so loud? He can probably still here you!" He waved his hands towards Olaf, who, despite facing away from them and waiting a nearby table, looked every inch the image of dejection, with his bowed head, drooping shoulders, and hunched back.

"I don't see what the big deal is, business is business…Olaf just needs to think of something more innovative and then he'll get his customers back. Why is this such a big deal?"

"Oh my god, I forgot that sometimes you could be so, so…"

Ahri's eyes narrowed into slits. "So…_what_?"

"So insensitive! I mean, Olaf is our friend. Could you be more of a bitch right now?"

"You want bitchy?" Ahri threw back, equally affronted. "At least I didn't feed for seven games and then lose someone else's inheritance. Because really, it's not like I have a trust fund to fall back on like Ashe does, or anything."

Wukong couldn't believe she had gone there. Hell, he couldn't tell if she was consciously trying to spite him, or if it was possible she had reached a new level of naiveté. Whatever it was, the day had been bad enough without the added reminders and at that he leaped off his seat, throwing a coin onto the table. "I'm done. Good night. Good luck with your mischief…plotting…whatever the hell you're doing. Call me when your heart melts." Rolling his eyes, he grabbed his staff off the counter and stalked off.

Ahri watched him leave in bittersweet victory. Her anger was fast dissipating, and alone at the bar counter she felt strangely bereft. But on the other hand, she was still struggling to understand what had gotten the monkey so riled up in the first place, and did he really call her a…a…that horrible word?

_Human emotions are weird_, she finally concluded, before returning to her scribbles.


	5. I Smell a Rat

Previously, on Tales of the Fox…Ahri plots the demise of Twitch, and gets into a spat with Wukong! But still the plotting continues, long into the night...

"Erm…Ahri? Miss Ahri?" The voice sounded faraway, distant.

Ahri's eyes flickered open, and she lifted her cheek off the sticky bar counter, pawing dazedly at the napkin that was stuck to her cheek. "Wh…wha?"

Slowly she began to register the persistent tugging at the hem of her skirt, and she looked down, where an apprentice castor minion was trying its best to get her attention. "Miss Ahri, Miss Ahri, you've been summoned! The game started five minutes ago!"

"What are you talking about?" Furrowing her brow, Ahri couldn't remember when she had finally fallen asleep, and she wasn't interested in waking up now. "Come and get me in the morning," she murmured, hardly coherent, and rested her head back against her arms, curling her tails over her head like a blanket.

"No Miss Ahri you must wake up! You're supposed to be on the Rift!" the minion squealed, afraid of the consequences if he failed to get this champion onto the field.

"Oh my goodness, why didn't you say so!" Now she jolted upright, and the minion breathed a tiny sigh of relief. Like a fox possessed, she made a mad dash for the arena, while the minion trundled beside her, huffing in its efforts to keep up.

"They're going to be so mad at me," Ahri groaned, sprinting towards the big fluorescent sign that indicated the entrance to the purple side. "I don't even know what the teams are, ack!"

"Pardon—me, Miss Ahri—I know—roster…please—PLEASE—stop—AHHH!"

There was a small thud, and glancing over her shoulder Ahri could quickly ascertain the reason why, as the poor castor minion was sprawled face down on the ground. She rushed back and knelt beside him, offering her assistance, but he seemed oblivious to her outstretched arms and slowly heaved himself back up, sniffling a little, and pushing the sleeves of his oversized robe up to the elbow to check for scrapes. It was most endearing. "Poor little minion," Ahri cooed.

The minion coughed, still blue-faced; reaching into his cloak he withdrew a small crystal flask and took a deep gulp. "Oh dear, that's better. Let's see...you're up against Twisted Fate in the mid lane, and I believe they summoned Twitch to carry the match."

"Twitch, you say?" Her eyes gleamed.

"I'm sorry, but I must attend Cho'Gath now. It seems the tailor cut the inseams of his suit too short," the minion sighed, waving a distracted good bye as the fox champion hurried through the archway and into the arena. His head was cocked to one side and he was desperately listening to the complaining garble resonating through his earpiece, sighing in exasperation. But suddenly he was shrieking into the microphone, and his violet robes flurried behind him as he sprinted off again.

"NO, CHO!" His voice echoed through the deserted halls. "Noms are not for negative behavior! Agh! You spit that man out right now…"

* * *

Twitch cackled over Soraka's prone body, brandishing his crossbow above his head and savoring a last moment of triumph before the latter's body disappeared in a wisp of light. From somewhere in the jungle he could hear the raucous shouts of her teammates thirsting for revenge, and he cautiously backed into the shadows, allowing his body to fade completely against the backdrop of dark grass just as Garen and Riven rushed by. Then he ventured out in the opposite direction.

_Too easy…too too easy_, he thought with a smirk, and wondered where to set up his next ambush. Perhaps by the eminent, the most revered Lord Nashor? He deeply enjoyed the stimulating, philosophical discussions with the aristocratic worm, a far more diverting pastime then the pathetic mock battles that got so redundant, so quickly. Yes, perhaps he got easily distracted, but it's not like his team needed him anyway. They had made that very clear, from the moment he stepped foot at the Institute, and he fumed a little at the remembered insult.

_"Stink freak!"_

_"Sewer scum!"_

_"Hey look, it's Bubonic Boy!"_

Okay, so perhaps there was more than one. Didn't they realize that all that name-calling was turning him cynical? Sure, they had hurt his feelings, at first, but after his three-day weekend back home in the sewers he had returned more apathetic and even more immune to their pathetic taunts. Gosh, whatever toxic muck was flowing in Zaun these days was really starting to improve his perspective on life. He scurried out of the dense underbrush, to check if the Baron had arrived yet, but suddenly his body froze.

"What the—"

A pink mist swirled over his eyes, and through the haze he could see the outline of a female as she approached. Voluptuous, sensual, and his evolved nose picked up deliciously faint scent of fresh strawberries wafting from her hair, making his whiskers quiver. Twitch irrationally began to wonder if the warm fuzziness making his chest swell was the rumored fantasy the humans called love. But probability-wise, he reminded himself, it was far more likely that he was having a stroke. Which would explain why this angel was coming for him…er, _at _him…

"TWITCH!"

A devilish scream brought the plague rat back to his senses, moments before the so-called angel tackled him back into the underbrush and out of the camera's eye. The hands around his throat were shaking him violently, making his teeth rattle, and he flailed his paws around, gasping for air. "This—isn't—legal—ack…help!"

Ahri pinned the rat to the ground, holding her breath at the truly awful stench that emanated from Twitch's clothes, his fur…well, everything. _Does he _ever_ bathe!?_ a part of her wondered, but aloud she hissed, "where is it?" over and over, in between jarring shakes.

"What—_ack_—are—_ack_—you—_ack_—talking—_ack_—about—_ack_—woman?!" Twitch squealed, finally getting a grip on her wrists and wrenching them away from his neck, which may or may not have been a terrible idea, for now she was barraging him with her fists. "AGHHH! Have you gone insane?! You. Are. NOT. MELEE!"

She bared her teeth, looking remarkably like a fox on the hunt, and sat back on her heels, giving the rat a moment to recover himself. "You stole them. It had to be you. Now where are they!?"

He shook his head, blinking furiously. "I…I don't know what you're talking about!" he stammered, and for once he looked genuinely confused. "Stole what?"

"MY DIAMONDS, you…you fiend!"

Pulling himself back to his feet, Twitch hesitated to respond, and instead reached for his crossbow, taking a long moment to wipe the blood and grime that had quickly accumulated over the course of the match. "Diaaaamonds, you say?" he inquired, trying to sound casual, although his heart was pounding faster. "Hmmm…just how many diamonds are we talking about?"

"That's not relevant!" Ahri exclaimed, standing up to brush herself off, and wincing at the sight of her arms, which were caked to the elbow in mud and...she didn't want to imagine what else. Not to mention the smell that seemed to grow stronger by the second, and made her eyes water. _I am so going to need a bath after this…_

Twitch was grinning now. "But it_ is_ important, you see. That is, if you want my, uh, help. Yeah...help. To find them. The diamonds, that is. Hehehe." Was he really talking to another champion? Another _female_ champion? Man, he had never felt more suave.

Apparently Ahri disagreed. Her tails bristled and fanned outwards like an angry peacock's tail, and Twitch gulped. He turned around, to run, to disappear, to no avail. The last thing the rat would remember of the match was the flash of emerald eyes and an eternal second of burning agony before the world went black.


	6. Parties and Plots

Ahri heard the shuffle of a deck of cards and her head jolted out of the bush. Instinctively her body tensed, and she screwed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the stunning impact; that sound was distinctive, and she knew what usually followed next was invariably unpleasant.

But nothing happened.

After a few tense seconds of silence, Ahri squeezed one eye open, then blinked in surprise. Standing in the marshy shallows was the last man she was expecting to leave a target alive, given his reputation for gambling with everyone's lives. "TF?" she asked, and wondered what could have turned him so suddenly soft.

He flashed his hand, revealing a gold card, and at the sight of it she flinched, which made him laugh. "Relax, little lady," he chuckled in his Southern drawl, and took a step forward. "It isn't what ya think."

"What is it then?" she snapped back, still shocked into the defensive by this unnerving act of camaraderie. "You know we're still in-game, right?"

He shrugged. "Your Twitch disconnected, and our Shaco's a troll…everyone's pretty much doing their own thing this game, and besides, it's easier to chat with everyone here." He dangled the card in front of her. "Well, ya takin' it or not?"

To her surprise the golden card was just that—simply a card. Unfolding it, she read in silence for a minute, trying to decipher the elegant, spidery hand, but when she looked up, she was grinning. "Congratulations, TF!"

The wide brim of his hat shadowed his eyes, but she caught the returning smile beneath it. "Thanks," he replied. "Lady luck was smilin' on me, I reckon."

"Luck or not, I'd be delighted to come," she added, and tucked the invitation into her sash. "This engagement party sounds quite extravagant, though, I didn't take you for such a romantic!"

In response, the card master produced a blooming red rose from inside his sleeve, and brought it to his lips for a gentle kiss. "Is that so?" he mused, before stretching out his hand, offering her the prize. "Well, little lady, I'm hopin' you'll reconsider after tomorrow night."

"Hey, keep those for _your_ lady, mister!" Ahri giggled, and swatted his hand away. "But yeah, about that…what's the point of giving me an invitation if the party's tomorrow, anyway?"

He looked down at his feet and shrugged, tucking the rose into his jacket lapel. Then he glanced up again. "I guess I just like cards," was his simple reply.

"Hey you two, the game's over! We're trying to clear the field!" A minion's sharp voice interrupted their conversation. He was holding a broom and looked utterly exhausted, which was understandable when they saw the bulging sack he shouldered over his robes, already splitting at the seams from reclaimed items—mainly broken weapons, shields, and other equipment from the shops. It was evident that he had been busy with cleanup. "You've got no business on the rift now!"

"Sorry, Mister Minion—sir," Ahri stammered, caught off guard by his hostile tone and the glare he shot them from under his hood. Except she didn't notice the latter, for in her excitement her gaze had quickly swiveled back to the card master. "Hey, TF, tell Eve congrats from me! I can't wait to see the ring!"

He tipped the brim of his hat her way and nodded. "Will do," he replied with the hint of a smile, pulling out a fresh pack of cards. "She's excited about it too. Says she never seen a diamond so big."

"Oh I bet—wait…diamond?"

But Twisted Fate had scattered the cards into the air around him, and was gone. The minion cursed and trudged back, muttering gibberish about wasteful Champions and the extra work the ungrateful Card Master had just caused him, tossing his bag to the side with a huff. He ignored the fox-girl, who was peering absentmindedly at the tarot cards as they fluttered about and encircled a now-empty space, for she seemed to be caught up in mad murmurings of her own.

"Diamond?" she breathed, over and over. "Diamond?"

* * *

Wukong lay sprawled over the couch, still in his pajamas and half-dozing, half-flipping through the channels. There was never anything good on at this hour…everyone was out being social, so all that played around lunchtime was weather, or the food network, or weather, or soap operas…he flicked back to Janna just as she finished the usual seven-day forecast ("Fair weather ahead, folks, unless you piss me off!"). But it had felt so nice to sleep in, after that crummy day…

He remembered what he had said to Ahri in his anger, and winced at the thought. She usually was the first to pound on his door in the mornings, to drag him to breakfast, but that hadn't occurred today, which was half the reason he was still dressed for bed when it was almost noon. Halfheartedly he picked up the phone, but then set it back down again. What was he going to do? Leave her a voicemail about how sorry he was for being a jerk? That would just make him seem like more of a tool. But at least it would be something, and then he could get dressed and find her in person…he picked up the phone again, and prepared to dial.

Without warning, the phone lit up and started screeching in that horrible, outdated ring that just about gave the monkey a heart attack. Pushing buttons frantically and at random, he screamed "Hello?" into the mouthpiece, his heart hammering.

All he heard was a jumbled "_OPPA_! Comedownhere—terrible!—howdarethey—" before the line crackled and went flat again. He couldn't tell if it was the shitty phone or Ahri's typical whirlwind chatter, but…what did she say?

He sighed. That definitely wasn't the apology call he had been expecting when he had stormed off in anger the previous night. But on the bright side, she seemed to have forgotten her anger in her current state of distress…

With a resigned sigh, the monkey reached for his pants.

* * *

Ahri paced back and forth in the lobby, biting at her lower lip. It was a terrible habit, she knew, that only happened when she was at her wit's end…but surely her ravaged lips must understand that this was a special exception. She had just lost her life's inheritance, after all.

Her life. Her diamonds. The diamonds she had collected for centuries, safely hoarded in her den, back when she didn't know their value. It was easy to pick them off the dead, for bodies littered battlefields left and right during the days of the Rune Wars, and the stones glimmered—oh, how they glittered, as though alive—amidst the piles of rusted swords, caked patches of blood, and other quiet signs of death. Then, after the transformation, they had sustained her, afforded her a life of comfort and peace among her human peers…at least for a while, until the darkness began to descend. Slowly the diamonds lost their shine, until she forgot about them; subtly a new obsession arose. The innocent sparkle of diamonds was lost in the metallic tang of blood, the hunt for a fresh soul. Even now, although Ahri shuddered at the price of her humanity, she could still feel a little bit of the darkness, the animal inside her, yearning for the old days, licking its muzzle at the memory.

"No," she whispered firmly, clenching her fists.

"No, what?"

The sudden arrival startled her. "Oh dear, Wukong, you made it!" she exclaimed, perking up at once. "But you scared me!" Part of her was wondering if he would even come, since he had seemed so angry earlier, and she was delighted to see now that this wasn't the case. Grabbing his forearm, she dragged him to an alcove of empty chairs near the fireplace, which was crackling with a fresh log and cast a warm, comforting glow across the room.

Wukong sat down, but he was still frowning. "Is everything alright? Your call worried me—"

"Yes, it's dreadful." A sudden lump manifested in the pit of her stomach. Was this what guilt felt like? "You know how I thought Twitch stole my diamonds?"

"Yes…"

She gulped. "Well, um…it turns out he didn't."

The monkey raised an eyebrow. "Oh no…what did you do? Is that why they didn't finish broadcasting your game? It cut for no reason, and switched to the weather." _Always the weather...can't they afford satellite or something?_

"Eh heh…my bad? In my defense it wasn't just me...the game was rather dull. Shaco backdoored the nexus, TF and I were just talking, and I think everyone else went to the Barrel Stand," she replied. "But then I got invited to TF's engagement party."

"Wow, you just got your invite? I got mine a week ago," Wukong breathed out, rather astonished. "I'm surprised he waited for so long. Wait…what's this have to do with your phone call?"

"I'm getting there! But it's Evelynn! That sneaky, manipulative little...! She's using my diamonds for her wedding! Can you believe it?"

The monkey blanched. "For real? No way! Did TF tell you that?"

"Er…not exactly, but wait! Don't get mad!" Ahri hastily added, for Wukong had gotten to his feet with an incredulous shake of his head. "It makes sense! Suddenly she has a diamond, right as I lose all of mine. TF is known for his shady side jobs. And…women will do unspeakable things to get one of those babies on their finger, believe me."

"I don't know what you want me to do, Ahri," Wukong retorted, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "It's not like we can just march up to Evelynn at her engagement party and demand the ring off her finger. Hell, say she did, and even amused us by letting us look at it, how would you even know it to be one of yours, anyway?"

She scoffed at him. "Who _doesn't_ know what their diamonds look like? Besides, I imprinted a little bit of my soul into each of them, so believe me, I will know."

"…Like a Horcrux?"

"A what?"

"A Hor…oh come on, don't you read?"

Ahri tossed her head impatiently. "Puh-lease, I'm a budding entrepreneur. Who has time for that!"

"Well it would explain why you don't have much of a soul left…" Wukong muttered in an undertone, rolling his eyes.

"Wha'd you say?"

Instead of replying, the monkey shoved a paw into his pocket and fumbled around, finally withdrawing a crumpled slip of paper. "I have a better idea; you take this"—he shoved the business card into her hand—"and give Cait a call. This is more down her alley, don't you think?"

She frowned. "You don't think I'm right?"

"No, that's not what I meant at all! I just think that you're still getting over the fact that they're gone…and it would be nice to have a third-party who knows what they're doing." And, after a short pause, he added quietly, "and I don't want you to get in trouble."

Ahri's face brightened up immediately. "But that's what you're here for, Wu! I could never raid this party without you to back me up!"

"Wait, whoa, raid? Who said anything about a raid?"

"Like you said, we can't just demand the ring off her finger," Ahri replied, tutting in exasperation at the sight of her friend's baffled face. "Don't you see? If we break in while the party is happening, it will give us time to find the rest of my diamonds, and then we'll know for sure that they're the thieves!"

Wukong gritted his teeth. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. I mean, we have invitations…it seems absurd to break in when they've _invited_ us."

"It's the only way," she said, in a tone that clearly signified the matter was closed. "I have to do this—no, I'm going to do this. So are you in or not?"

There was a long pause.

"Oh alriiiight," Wukong finally groaned, "I'm only going as backup though. If there's a hint of trouble we go back to the party as _guests_, got it?"

Ahri leaped off her seat, her tails ecstatically bouncing up with her. "Agreed! Wu! Oh, you're the best! Try and act casual until tomorrow, you hear? I don't want them to get a whiff of what we're planning!" Her features broke out into a sly grin. "Don't worry! It sounds kinda fun, don't you think?"

Given the horrified look on Wukong's face, it was clear that he did not find the idea entertaining in the slightest. _I hope for our sakes the diamonds are there…because we are so going to need bail money, _he moaned, watching his mischievous fox-friend scamper away.


	7. A Mask, A Raid

_The night was cool and a fresh breeze played with the loose strands of her hair as she padded across the grounds, relieved to escape the stifling crowds. Inside, the mansion was packed, the air soured by too much wine and dancing, and she felt grateful to have slipped out into the open, alone. Now she walked in a dimly-lit, shaded garden, where the only sound was the rustling of the leaves and the only lights were the soft-glowing blue petals of peonies, a mutant strain and a byproduct of more haphazard years when magic was freely abused._

But perhaps not alone after all,_ her mind cautioned, for suddenly the tips of her ears twitched, picking up a muted, wavering sound._

_As she wound closer towards the garden's center the sounds wove into a haunting, melodious lament, the music of a single flute. And at the very heart of the garden, she found the source of the song. Her path opened up into a hollow grove, flat and well-worn, ringed with dark foliage that protected a small pond at its core. At the heart of the dark waters rested a small mound of earth, upon which a cherry blossom tree had been planted. Now it was in full bloom, perfuming the air with a lingering sweetness as the buds bobbed gently in the wind. Her eyes, once well-accustomed to the night, could only make out the shadow of a man as she crept ever closer, leaning against the cherry tree. He was half-concealed by the low-hanging branches, but she noticed that his head was bowed, and he was earnestly playing with the fervor of a soul long lost in bitter grief._

_Yet as sad as it was, it was the most enchanting thing she had ever heard._

* * *

They had chosen a mansion, built especially for special occasions and located close enough to the Institute of War that it was hardly an hour's train ride away, and therefore an easy destination. As the dusk darkened into night, strings of tiny lights flickered across the property grounds like fireflies coming to life, and revealed a festive outdoor scene, although it seemed the guests were content to keep the party indoors, for the time being.

"Ouch, Wu, that was my tail!"

"Which one?"

"Oh _ha, ha,_ very funny. You go first, then!"

Keeping to the long, lingering shadows, Ahri and Wukong crept through the courtyard and approached the mansion's entrance. A paved road lined with peach trees led to a circular driveway, at the center of which was a trickling marble fountain spewing colored, iridescent water. It cast a violet hue on the crescent of porch steps that welcomed guests through a double set of glass doors, both of which had been thrown open for the occasion. Laughter and idle conversation, coupled with the enticing scent of exotic food, wafted through the air and made Ahri's stomach growl.

"Wow, someone's starving."

"Oh, shut up, Wu."

"Want a peach?"

Ahri glanced back; in the dim light she could see him hopping on his tail like it was a pogo stick, and judging by the crunching noises, also savoring the taste of stolen fruit. "Wu!" she hissed. "Pay attention!"

"I don't know why we couldn't have just put on our costumes and walked in. It's a masquerade…not like they would've recognized us anyway, with the costumes _you_ got."

Ahri knew he was referring to the contents of her backpack, but she herself was proud of her costume design skills. She had reasoned that once they were inside, they would need more suitable cover than the simple, black lycra suits they were wearing at the moment, which would have immediately signaled them as cat burglars, or at the very least, party crashers. _Party crashers without any taste_, Ahri reminded herself, horrified at the very idea, _and that is completely unacceptable. _So now she was lugging along two ornate, heavily layered costumes fashioned out of black satin and heavily embroidered with gold thread, in keeping with the Venetian theme. There was also a lock picking set, a complete set of blueprints detailing the interior of the mansion, even down to the electrical wiring, and a lump of C-4, just in case. Of course, she hoped they wouldn't need to resort to that.

(Although a little part of her was hoping that they would.)

"Alright, according to the blueprints the master suite is located on the top level to the right," Ahri whispered as they crouched in the grove of dense shrubbery lining the mansion's foundations. "Of course, there's an identical suite on the top level to the left."

"What?! Why?"

"Well…I'm assuming if someone decided to get married here, they would need a room for the bride to get ready and a room for the groom…"

"That's not the point, Ahri! Which room are _we_ supposed to target!? How do you even know the diamonds are in the master suite? Er…one of the master suites?"

She chuckled a bit at that. "Well…I'm not sure, to be honest. But why not? And the right suite is a lot easier to get into. Bigger balcony."

"And what if it's on the other side of the building?"

Ahri's eyes glinted mischievously in the near-darkness, and Wukong gulped. He did not like that look. That look was not his friend.

Setting the pack on the ground, Ahri pulled out a long line of rope, leaving Wukong to ponder at what a horrible, harebrained scheme this was turning out to be. Even worse, the words she said next words did nothing to alleviate those fears. "Uh…Wu?"

"Oh no, what now?"

"Um…I think I forgot the little hook-thing…"

"The what?"

He turned around to find Ahri flinging items out of the backpack left and right, her teeth bared in frustration. "It's not in here! I can't find it! The grapple-y...thing! It's not in the bag!"

"Seriously!?" Wu stooped to pick up a cluster of tiny wires, and a handful of gray-colored clay. "You bring _explosives_, and you forget a grappling hook?"

"WU!" she pined, "dooo something!"

The monkey sighed. He should have said, "Oh well, I guess we'll just use our invitations and enjoy the party now." He was going to say, "I'm sorry, Ahri, but I guess this is Fate telling us not to do this." But somehow, her crestfallen face compelled him to blurt out "alright, alright, calm down…I got this" instead.

Stepping past the whimpering fox, he glanced up at the wall, immediately berating himself for the words. For one, he didn't want to be an active, willing member in this scheme of hers, and secondly...how the hell was _he_ even supposed to get up there? Without his enchanted bo staff, the only alternative was flying. Or wall-sprinting...but four-stories? Sure, he'd taken a parkour class with Shen every now and then, but _four stories..._

Although...the thought about wall-sprinting gave him an idea.

"Hang on," he mumbled quickly to Ahri, who was wallowing nearby, and his paw swiped forwards in a blur. Before she realized what was happening, she was slung over the monkey's shoulder, and the world had turned upside-down.

"What the—!?" she shrieked, bewildered and queasy from the sudden vertigo. "WU! Put! Me! Down!"

But either Wukong couldn't hear her anymore, or she was being ignored, for no response came, no gesture to set her back on the ground. When she arched her back to glare at him, she realized it was the former, for his eyes were closed and his lips were moving in a fast murmur, as though he was deep in meditation. Beneath his feet strips of white smoke had begun to appear, circling round and round until they formed a more solid...cloud?

_Oh no_...Ahri gasped, suddenly realizing the monkey's plan. "Wuuuuuuu—!"

His name tapered off into a high-pitched squeal as the monkey suddenly vaulted upwards, dashing up the rigid mansion wall. Dimly she registered the patter of his paws as he sprinted up the smooth brick, before a disorienting lurch in her stomach brought her back to a state of alertness as he paused without warning.

"Wu! WU! Aghhhhh! We're going to fall!" she squealed, but the monkey she clung to was unresponsive. She twisted around to try and slap some sense into him, but his eyes were horribly vacant, as though some enchantment had rendered him frozen, and utterly useless.

Then, he disappeared entirely.

"WU!" Ahri cried. She was clutching at air, paralyzed with fear and at the zenith of her ascent, for once gravity set in, she knew the resulting fall could very well be lethal. But before she could scream again, or curse the decoy he had left behind, she felt a reassuring warmth clasp her hand.

"Gotcha."

She caught a glimpse of his grin as he reappeared, sitting contentedly on a miniature nimbus cloud, and hauled her into his arms. "Hang on," he cautioned, but quickly winced—her grip around his neck was painfully secure—although there wasn't enough time to dwell on that, for his cloud was quickly fading. Replacing himself with his decoy as he launched them both upwards again, clambered onto another cloud that he used as a ledge, and then repeated it all again, until they had safely cleared the fourth four balcony. Panting with the effort, he made one final leap onto the rooftop, scrambling slightly, but managed to haul them both to the safety of solid ground.

"That. Was. INGENIOUS!" Ahri exclaimed, breathless. Immediately her hands went to her hair to adjust the hood that had slipped back, and tend to some pesky flyaways. "I didn't know you could use your magic to dash like that!"

"I...didn't...either!" The monkey had sprawled out across the floor, his chest heaving from the effort. "Good to know, eh?"

Lifting his head, he realized Ahri was paying him no attention; having fixed her hair she was now crouched by the doorway, the lock-smithing kit unrolled at her feet. Kneeling beside the French doors, she coaxed the steel files into the lock, twisting them one way, and then another, seemingly at random.

"Do you even know how to pick locks?" Wukong inquired, grimacing at the sight of her, half-crouched in front of the door, trying to unjam the locks. It would have been comical, if his heart wasn't pounding with exhaustion...and a growing apprehension. What _if_ they got caught? _What happens then,_ he began to wonder.

As the minutes ticked by with no success, his uncertainty devolved into a mounting dread. In the dead of night they would look like thieves, especially when they were inexplicably holed up on the balcony of private property. His stomach clenched. But at that moment he heard a small, faint _click_.

There couldn't have been a sweeter sound.

Ahri wiped the back of her hand across her brow, looking relieved, but more than that, triumphant. "Alright," she cackled, and her eyes gleamed in the moonlight. "We're in!"


	8. A Light in the Tunnel

Hi everyone! So you're probably going to notice two things. First off...I am back from the DEAD (ZOMG!), and now there are a gazillion more chapters! Although, I'm sorry to say, most of those chapters (with the exception of this one) is older content that has been edited and/or rewritten.

However, to all you old faithful readers, I thank you for bearing with my **ONE YEAR** hiatus, and I encourage you to reread it all, refresh, and enjoy! To everyone in general, I hope this chapter brings a little laugh to your Friday, and please, please feel free to offer constructive criticism, or hugs, or comments in general! I do so love that! C;

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As they crept through a labyrinth of darkened hallways, for it appeared that only the lower levels had been lit and decorated for the festivities, it occurred to Wukong that he still wasn't aware of "the plan," which Ahri seemed to keep bringing up at every intersection.

"Okay, so here's the plan…" she would say, before getting distracted by a piece of art, or the tail-end of a joke that wafted upwards from the guests below, which was always followed by a polite flutter of laughter. Sometimes Ahri would join in, although Wukong was sure that she couldn't have heard the full joke, much less understand it, yet she would giggle quite loudly, until Wukong dreaded the certainty that they would be discovered by security.

Instead, he set a firm paw on her shoulder, and whispered, "Ahri, _please_…FOCUS!"

She choked down the last of her merriment and nodded, her eyes flashing like sapphires in the near-darkness. "Alright. We left the map—and everything else—at the bottom, but I'm pretty sure we're near the master suite! Ha, see! There's the door!"

As it was about the fifth time she had exclaimed those words, Wukong was feeling rather skeptical, and trundled half-heartedly along behind her. His face was locked into an expression of exasperation as Ahri latched her hands onto the handle and pulled, her lips curled upwards in a victorious smirk. "BEHOLD!"

Wukong sighed. "Ahri?"

She cocked her head to one side.

"That's a bathroom."

Feeling petulant, for she had not found the master suite, but had instead unlocked a stairwell, a boiler room, some empty rooms, and now, a bathroom, Ahri slammed the door shut, and the resulting echo it caused made them both jump. From below, Wukong could swear he heard the conversation falter. "Watch it!" he hissed.

"Well if you're such a know it all, why don't you lead the way?" she whined, although he could sense that her frustration wasn't so much directed at him, but more at the overarching fact that she was desperate to recover her precious diamonds.

"Hey, Ahri?"

"What."

"I'm still really sorry… that we lost your—"

"That you lost them," she snapped. "Now get out of my way!"

Wukong groaned, and shuffled over to the wall. Normally, watching Ahri sniff around attempting to use her inferior human nose like a hound would have been an entertaining sight, but her nerves were beginning to wear on him too. He had to admit, as horrible as it was, that he preferred the despondent Ahri over the bitchy one. Between tonight's frustrations and the residual guilt of feeling as though he had caused this whole debacle to begin with, he was in quite the unfestive mood. Normally, in such scenarios, he would instinctively reach for a 12-pack of Graggy Ice, but suddenly beer seemed to have lost all of its appeal.

They crept forwards and Wukong's nose twitched…was he growing delirious with hunger, or did he smell something sweet? The peaches had seemed forever ago…

"Look!" Ahri interjected, jolting the monkey out of yet another food reverie, "That's the door! I can feel it!" And, darting forward, she hurtled forwards and nearly battered it down in her enthusiasm.

It was a broom closet.

"It's alright, we must be getting close! There are only so many doors that can be up here, right Ahri?" Wukong inquired, chuckling as he came up behind the fox girl and trying to keep the atmosphere light.

Ahri didn't move, although her head remained bowed. When she finally turned around, the monkey was surprised to see that her eyes were brimming with tears.

"Why, Ahri? What is it?" he exclaimed, astonished. It was rare to see the bubbly, spirited fox girl shed a tear; in fact, the only times he could remember were in the past two days, and all because of those diamonds. Those stupid diamonds…and he was the one responsible for losing them.

"It's useless Wu, isn't it?" she managed to choke out, before sliding to her knees and burying her face in her hands. Seven tails settled themselves across her knees, or wrapped around her legs, as though attempting to provide her with some cushion of comfort.

Uncertain how to respond, Wu reached out and laid a paw on her head, and felt it shift with every sobbing heave of her shoulders. "Aw, come on Ahri…"

But Ahri continued to weep unabated. The Monkey King tried comforting and motivating her, by turns, trying his very best to remain optimistic, and even condemning Evelynn for her unproved crime once, in the hope that it would help his friend. But nothing seemed to work, and finally at a loss, Wukong slumped down beside her. One arm slid across her shoulders and tentatively pulled the fox girl towards the warmth of his chest, and the embrace was a gesture that he had never made before. It was…odd.

As for Ahri, only dimly aware that she was comfortably wrapped in the monkey's arms, it began to annoy her greatly that her burglar's mask was growing damp with tears. It was a cumbersome mask to begin with; made of a thick, form-fitting neoprene that made it feel as though she were trying to breath in a sauna, or at least somewhere where the air was practically solid, and that was before the tears had started and made it infinitely worse. It was hard to get comfortable when one couldn't breathe, and finally she wriggled out of the monkey's grasp and wrenched off that wretched mask, flinging it down the corridor until it landed with a thud, somewhere out of sight.

Then they both heard it. A soft, creaking noise...the unmistakable sound of a door opening. Unlike the other rooms, this one was softly lit, and an orange tendril of light began to curl towards the pair, extending from the door that apparently, had not been shut tight enough. Ahri's nostrils flared, for even her little human nose couldn't miss the sweet scents that wafted even stronger from the open room. Was that vanilla, she smelled? With a hint of cinnamon? Whatever it was, it smelled like cake. And cake was delicious.

The two looked at each other, mouths watering. For a brief moment the diamonds were all but forgotten.

"Race you?"

"You're on."

And then without a care for the commotion they were causing, scampering across the wooden planked floor, the fox and the monkey sprinted for the door. Wukong arrived first by a hair, but was almost immediately collided from behind by a determined Ahri, and together they half-rolled, half-fell into the room.

Ahri knew it for _the_ room at once. It was the master suite, it had to be. The room was grand and spacious, circular in shape, with French windows that stretched from the floors to the vaulted ceilings; the epitome of luxury. There was a king-sized canopy bed, draped with an assortment of silks and velvets, and rich Persian tapestries that filled the walls with an elegant warmth. A chandelier, dripping with crystals, hung from the ceiling, although the room's light was emitting from the fireplace, where a small but merry fire was crackling away, feasting on a burning log.

"Wow…" Ahri's jaw dropped as she turned around and around, taking in the splendor of the room. The ceiling was painted in delicate Renaissance works, and framed by the intricate, gilded crown molding. From behind her, she heard Wukong call her name, but she ignored it , so awestruck was she with the magnificence of the setting.

There was, however, one thing which struck a discordant note with the room, and that was a rather shabby suitcase lying near the fireplace, its contents strewn carelessly across the chairs and side tables that decorated the miniature living space. Mainly an assortment of whips, chains, and black leather…and there was lots of leather. Props such as these seemed more fitting to equip the underground lair of a dominatrix than the master suite of a ritzy estate, which meant they undoubtedly belonged to The Widowmaker herself, as she liked to be called by her submissive clients. Ahri vaguely wondered how Evelynn's career would play out with her upcoming nuptials.

"Look at this, Wukong! I wonder what this is used for?" Ahri fingered a rather brutal looking contraption with jaws and a coiled spring, although the fact that it was painted bright pink marked it as a toy rather than a torture device.

"Ahri!" he yelped in reply, and finally the fox girl turned around in exasperation.

"Oh what is it?" she sighed, but her words devolved into a gasp, for clamped around his left foot was another contraption, although this one was no toy, for it was squeezing the monkey's paw tight enough to draw blood. It was crafted entirely of stainless steel and positively medieval in design, but nevertheless effective: a bear trap. "Oh my god, Wu? What happened!?"

The monkey's eyes were watering with the pain. "I got the cupcake," he mumbled, although his voice broke as he winced again. Long, deft fingers fumbled with the jaws, trying unsuccessfully to pry the device open. "Now please, help me get this thing _off_!"

"I don't think so, _cupcake_." A door to the private bathroom opened, and out stepped their newcomer. Even her bright pink hair couldn't disguise the tomboyish features or mollify the intimidating, over-sized iron clad gloves she wore.

And as for their second newcomer, who suddenly appeared in the doorway behind them, her authoritative order cast a shiver of fear over the Monkey King, for he knew that their luck had run out.

_**"In the name of Piltover, you are both under arrest!"**_


End file.
